


Spooning

by Onehundredcandlesburning



Category: Actor RPF, British Actor RPF, Tom Hiddleston Fandom
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-11
Updated: 2014-04-11
Packaged: 2018-01-18 23:17:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1446448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Onehundredcandlesburning/pseuds/Onehundredcandlesburning
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tom and Ella discover something in each other they had fought against recognising for the duration and sake of their friendship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spooning

**Author's Note:**

> This work is now set up as a part of the Cutlery work (which started life as a one-shot and has evolved into a multi-chap). To read through the entire work or navigate easier...   
> http://archiveofourown.org/works/1482229/chapters/3127369

The flicker from the power-save device connected to the television woke Ella up. She was curled up on her side, Tom wrapped around her as usual. He had, as expected, been unable to contain himself and re-enacted certain scenes throughout the film. Small mercies that it hadn’t been the entire film, including spot on impersonations of De Niro, Pacino, Kilmer and basically every other character. He had managed to narrow it down to simply De Niro and Paccino. He made her laugh with the expressions his face would contort into, not just using their voices but taking them into himself. 

They must have been tired. She remembered making to the end of the film and seeing it start up again as they stretched out to spoon and get comfortable. Spooning. Tom was a master at it. He wasn’t particularly fond of being spooned as much as he enjoyed the ‘spooner’. On the odd occasion though, he would let Ella wrap around him. A fairly easy task for the tall woman, considering his lithe frame. They could have been mistaken for being related as their frames were almost identical aside from gender. She remembered how funny it felt to wrap around him for a change and how he’d press himself back against her, moulding her around his back, bottom and winding his legs around hers until his feet were underneath her feet. 

He was snoring lightly in her ear. His breath tickled her, the sounds making her giggle lightly.  
“Twhiddleston?… Tom?... Thomas??” She shifted, lifting his arm from over her side and rolling off the sofa onto the soft cream carpet. She lifted on her knees, leaning her elbows against the brown leather and watching him flop forward in her absence. His nose pressed against the leather, he snorted and woke himself up.  
“Wha..?” He lifted his head, bleary-eyed and confused. He rolled onto his back and rubbed his knuckles against his eyes.  
“What time is it, La?”  
“Just gone midnight. Bed?”  
“I think so…” a loud, wide-mouthed yawn as he sat up with a groan. Clutching the black blanket and casting it aside as he swung his long legs around. “Up you go, get into your pyjamas and I’ll make sure everything is switched off.” He muttered through another yawn. 

Ella grabbed her overnight bag and lifted herself up the stairs as Tom made it to his feet, wandering off in the direction of the kitchen for a glass of water. He scratched at his disheveled hair and then the side of his face. By the time he’d downed his water he felt decidedly more awake. He switched everything off, lastly the range-hood light, and started to make his way up the stairs. 

He stood in the doorway, and reached down to scratch at himself through his track pants. For all the class he portrayed to the outside world, he was still the 18-year-old slightly awkward, gangly, hormone-ridden kid Ella remembered.  
“You’ve changed…” His brow furrowed as he focused on her, pulling back the covers.  
“How?” she scoffed, sitting on the Egyptian cotton sheet.  
“I don’t know. But there’s something different about you. For one, you were on time tonight.”  
“Well, I have to be responsible now with work.”  
“You still at the little…”  
“No. I’m the Barista at the new place near the station. Just past Glenloch?”  
“Nice! When you next working?”  
“Tomorrow morning actually. Want to come to work with me? I’ll organise some breakfast.”  
“Sold.” He lifted his t-shirt off over his head, showing off the feint outline of a bruise just under his arm.  
“Ouch?”  
“It’s nothing, La. All part of the job.” He smiled wearily, touching his fingertips to it. Inspecting the colour and pain levels. 

She got comfortable, rolling on her side and reaching pick her phone up off the bedside table setting the alarm.  
“What time do you want to get up?”  
“My body clock is on 6am Toronto time still.”  
“Running?”  
“Always, La. You know that.”

“Okay. I’ll get up with you. Six hours. Shit. Not enough hours in the night.”  
“Or the day.” Tom yawned again, a loud bellow. He quickly pulled his track pants off leaving nothing but his boxer briefs and clambered into bed behind her. He cuddled up, wrapping his arms around her. She lifted her head at his prompting, his arm snaking underneath to rest between the crook of her neck and the pillow. He knew it would end up riddled with pins and needles but he’d planned to be asleep by that stage. He chuckled. 

“What’s so funny?” She wriggled, feeling the shaking of his body at her back as he laughed.  
“Let me put it this way… if you came to lay your sleeping head against my arm or sleeve, and if my arm went dead, or if I had to take my leave at midnight, I should rather cleave it from the joint or seam than make a scene or bring you round. There, how does that sound?”  
“Always with the Armitage, you sly dog.” Ella pushed back against his frame. Both making little murmurs of comfort, wrapped in the plush bedding. Cold, blustery wind whipping the drizzle outside. 

“Why did nothing ever happen with us?” Tom’s voice was settled low in his throat.  
“Because I want what you can’t give me, and I would drive you to drink.” She held her breath and wondered if he could feel that she had stopped moving. Her heart beat faster. She had wanted the conversation with him so many times but each time had caught herself. Knowing him inside out, and knowing that he would never put their friendship at risk for the sake of chancing anything more. 

“Oh…”  
“Why do you ask, after all these years?”  
“I’m not quite sure. I guess I hadn’t thought of it until now.”  
“Well, thanks. That makes me feel a complete object of affection.” Changed? How had things changed? What was he thinking? For the first time since she met him she felt as though she hadn’t a clue what was in his head. It unnerved her. She second guessed herself. Doubted. Wondered.  
“I’m sorry, Lala. Forget I said anything.”

Ella frowned. Her stomach rolled, a knot forming deep within. A long time ago she had resigned herself to the fact that she wasn’t ever going to be anything more than what they were here and now and she appreciated the fact she was where she was. So near and dear to him in this form. That satisfied her, until now. She felt he had lifted the lid when Pandora had her back turned. 

“I can’t simply forget you said that, Tom.”  
“No, Lala. Let’s just be.” He was terrified he had even mentioned anything. He needed to get his head clear. Work out what this was before opening up to Ella about it. The first time he had censored himself around her. It felt odd. Like a wall was slowly being erected between them. It angered him, he angered himself. 

She contemplated wriggling free from his embrace for a moment. Her mind now ticking. Had he contemplated it too? Was he contemplating it now?  
“Tom…”  
“What is it?” He was biting at his bottom lip. This change troubled him. He couldn’t understand it. He couldn’t pinpoint what was happening, but it felt different somehow. Still lovely, without expectation and so warm and familiar, but different. It troubled him. Had her skin grown softer? Had her conditioner changed? He inhaled quietly.  
“I think we need to talk.” Summoning all her strength she felt the timing was right. 

He froze. He had never wanted to have this conversation with her. He had been aware in the early days of their friendship that she had feelings for him, but they fortunately seemed to diminish over time. She was too precious in his life to risk ruining. She had been hurt before and he’d witnessed it, been there to pick up the pieces. She’d also witnessed what a cad he could be given the right amount of alcohol and the right circumstances. They just accepted each other, warts and all and this friendship had grown into a part of each individual. Another limb. Another organ tucked away inside their bodies. He had never looked upon her as anything other than his dear friend. His soul mate of sorts. She wasn’t unattractive to him at all physically, but he’d just never looked upon her like that before. What lay inside her meant so much more to him. 

“La…” his tone was slightly rasped. Tired. His response forced her to bury her feelings. Swallowing them.  
“Never mind.” She relaxed again. Letting him pull her closer. She felt every inch of him pressed against her and closed her eyes tightly as they began to water. 

“I love you, La. That’s all you need to know.” He pressed his lips against the back of her head. Lifting his hand from her side to tuck her hair out of his face so as he didn’t pull upon it resting his head back down on the pillow.  
“I love you, Tom.” She could feel his heart beating just below the middle of her shoulder blades. She clasped his hand as it moved back to her side. Lifting her arm and wrapping it across the top of his arm. Drawing interlaced fingers up against her chest. 

He resumed biting at his bottom lip. Feeling the softness of her beneath the cotton of her night clothes. The back of his hand with only a few woven threads between them. He had missed this. Had missed her scent. Missed her honesty with him about when he spoke too much. Her chastising of him for being drawn out into the atmosphere with the other stars, pulling on his ankles to bring him back into his own skin again. Her ability to ground him in reality. Had her curves increased? She felt rounder. Fuller. 

His thoughts and the contact they shared extracted a low burst of breath from him. He felt the blood rush through his body and land at the most base of his bodily points. That hadn’t happen before, at least not before they fell asleep. It was a usual visitor when they woke, but as he’d explained to her – and she understood – it was beyond his control and a wicked trick of nature. Her eyes opened. She blinked. Feeling the growth occurring at her behind. 

She retaliated in kind, an automated response. Her hips lifted to tilt her behind upwards. His eyes shot open and he groaned softly. He felt as though he had a fever. The heat in his cheeks was like a furnace. He tightened the clasp of his fingers between hers. She reciprocated, moving her supple body painfully slow up against him. 

“Ella…” he moaned, giving a little push against her.  
“Shh…” she quieted him. She felt that if they were to talk any further he would throw his wall up and fight to save the friendship rather than enjoy this moment.  
“El…” his breathing was growing more ragged with each brush she made against him. His eyes rolling back, lids closing down. Mouth opened, he bowed down, placing his lips against her shoulder. The contact seared her. His teeth grazing lightly across the surface. She felt the flat of his tongue as he pressed his mouth to her across the lines left by his teeth. She twisted her face back, looking over her shoulder to face him.

Pressed together, they fell into each others’ eyes and saw as if for the first time through spectacles of silver thread and kaleidoscopic colours. The room was spinning as his mouth crashed against hers. Her arm lifting off his to reach back. Fingers finding his hair and raking through, holding him against her as he in turn held her against him.


End file.
